


When We Weave Ourselves Together

by EdilMayHampsen



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Buddy aurinko is a QUEEN, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, I just...I think agression can be healing you know?, I thought "You know? Cannon is a little too easy" and so ... this happened, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual combat is a love language, Other, Peter Nureyev feels safe, Peter Nureyev is a bitch and i love him SO much, Peter Nureyev is a hair stylist actually, Post-Episode: s02e34-35 Juno Steel and the Soul of the People, Spoilers through soul of the people, a very slight cannon divergence more like a zoom in, and also so very indulgent, cannon atypical they get to say fuck, cannon divergence right after that episode, fight me <3, okay so look, that's like...a pretty big part of this fic, theres a fight scene if you haven't guess that, this fic is emotional parkour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29023488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdilMayHampsen/pseuds/EdilMayHampsen
Summary: A few days have passed since that moment, not nearly enough to stop my treacherous mind from digging it out of its file, studying it like I’d study a potential target. I squint through the darkness of the night and the haze of my memory in an attempt to recall the expression on Juno’s face. What I come up with, time and time again, is star-struck. His lips slightly agape, his posture open, vulnerable. It’d be ridiculously easy to push him over and watch him shatter on the floor like an expensive vase. I know what I saw, and yet I still find myself thinking back, looking for more.
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay, Peter Nureyev & Aurinko Crime Family, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel, Vespa Ilkay & Peter Nureyev
Comments: 16
Kudos: 53





	When We Weave Ourselves Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Yes I'm back again bringing you a fic I wrote and edited in three days cause fuck it. I really hope you enjoy!!! I asked myself "What tropes do I think are gold mines when I find them in TPP fic" and they're all in there except for the heist. But who knows? This may have another part or two.
> 
> Trigger warnings for:  
> -swearing cause I wrote it  
> -general angst  
> -argument  
> -physical fight with mild physical harm (sparring)  
> -implied depression  
> -self isolation  
> -bad self talk/self esteem issues  
> -blink-and-you'll-miss-it alluded to suicidal ideation  
> -the phrase "oh hush"

I’d be a fool to believe in magic. Maybe in some other world, some other timeline, where science isn’t as complete and imaginations run more wild. But there’s some fraction of magic in fortunate coincidence. Leaning on the hood of the ruby 7 in the cold martian night, stars sparkling overhead, with half of my new crew gathered around me, I felt no magic at all. It was just another group of thieves on just another planet near Solar. Despite the fact that I was standing next to would-be legends, I myself was a legend in the making. It felt like the natural progression of my criminal career. It felt easy.

But then I brought my eyes down from the sky and saw Juno Steel. If there is any magic in the universe at all, even if an infinitesimal amount, it showed itself in that moment.

He gawked back at me. 

I stood slowly, changing my body language to suggest I’d been caught on Jet’s car and was moving away. That wasn’t the case — if anything, the ruby is  _ our _ car — but I could feel tears stinging my eyes and Peter Ransom wasn't the kind to cry over meeting an old friend. Peter Ransom wasn't supposed to have old friends at all. Clearly, the persona needed adjustments. 

A few days have passed since that moment, not nearly enough to stop my treacherous mind from digging it out of its file, studying it like I’d study a potential target. I squint through the darkness of the night and the haze of my memory in an attempt to recall the expression on Juno’s face. What I come up with, time and time again, is  _ star-struck _ . His lips slightly agape, his posture open, vulnerable. It’d be ridiculously easy to push him over and watch him shatter on the floor like an expensive vase. I know what I saw, and yet I still find myself thinking back, looking for more. 

“Hey Mr. Ransom,” I look up and see Rita in the doorway. I came into the kitchen to fix myself something small, just to settle my nervous stomach enough to sleep. It seems I’ve been standing here for quite a while doing nothing. 

“Rita,” I say in surprise, “Do you want your hair done again? I’m afraid it’s quite late but I— “ I glance at the clock,  _ quite  _ late. 

Rita yawns, stretching herself to her full height, which is still quite small. “Yeah maybe,” she grumbles, shuffling to the cabinet. She pulls out the instant coffee. Originally one of the items on Vespa’s part of the grocery list, Rita's taken to using it as a sleep aid. “Want any?”

“No thank you, coffee stains my teeth.” 

She dissolves a spoonful in cold water and downs it like a shot. I remember why I’m here in the first place, and busy myself digging through Rita’s assortment of snacks in search of saltines. When I emerge from the cavern of a pantry, my selection of cheese and packaged roast beef sits on the counter waiting for me, the culprit resting her head on the dining room table, silk bonnet discarded beside her. 

“I don’t think it’s wise for me to do your hair dry, Rita,” I say pointedly.

She grumbles.

“Rita?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’m going, I’m going.”

I watch her disappear down the hall, smiling to myself. She and Juno have spent so many years together that, if you look closely, you’ll see their personalities have blended at the edges. Rita has a bite to her I’m almost certain wasn’t there years ago, it comes out mostly in nights like tonight, when she’s tired. With Juno it shows in the way he sits, or shifts his weight, or  _ clings _ . If you get him to drop enough guards a bit of Rita will come through in the way his voice pitches up in excitement, or when he’s startled. I wonder back to that moment on Mars, searching for signs on Juno’s face. Wondering if his guards still lowered to me, or if he's built them back up, immune to the echoes of emotion I feel when I run into him on the ship and promptly run away.

No, I remind myself, not running away. A tactical, in-character avoidance. Peter Ransom isn’t keen on remeeting anyone from his old lives. Peter Ransom has a hard time with people as open as Juno. Too easy to manipulate and impress.  _ Boring _ . If he needs to befriend the members of the Carte Blanche one by one, Peter Ransom would save Juno for last. 

I shake myself and give Rita a small smile, taking the caddy of products she hands me with one hand, and eating my crackers with the other. 

I dust my hands off and reach for the spray bottle. I’ve done Rita’s hair a number of times since we departed from Mars. We fell easily into routine, I needed something to do with my hands, and Rita needed an ear to talk to. Her habit of unconsciously undoing braids when she got excited, and Rita often got excited, meant I had plenty of hair to work with. 

I suppose the point wasn’t only to have a way of fidgeting. It worked to slot Ransom into the interpersonal relations of the crew. I’ve caught Buddy eyeing Rita’s styles, and I’m sure a second client is incoming. My fingers may not have as solid a grip as they used to, but they seem good enough for the Carte Blanche, and there’s pride in that. For a very long time I’ve been peripherally aware that grooming is normally a community act, even If I’d never experienced it firsthand. It’s nice to have a place. 

I’ve finished saturating Rita’s hair, and began to part it into sections to comb through, when she speaks up again.

“Mmm, hullo Mr.Steel.” 

It takes effort not to freeze, or look up to confirm the object of my dawning horror. I focus on her hair. Tips to roots. Tips to roots. Gentle now. 

“Hi Rita,” Juno says through his teeth, “I just remembered this isn’t where I need to be right now.” 

“Oh come  _ ooon _ Mister Steel I haven’t talked to you in a whole day!”

“It’s barely past midnight— “

“A  _ whole _ day. Absolutely unacceptable, come on! Sit down. Ooh! Ooh! Or better yet go and get your nail polish and we can have a spa day.” 

“Rather closer to a spa night.” I mumble, forgetting myself. 

The silence that follows makes my chest tighten, then Juno breathes a laugh and says, “Yeah, alright.” 

I find functioning is a little easier when he’s gone. I go back a few twists of the braid, I’d slackened by grip.

“He doesn’t bite, you know.” Rita says, “You both keep acting like the other’s gonna tear you to shreds and I can’t lie Mr.Ransom, it’s ex- _ hau _ -sting. A girl can’t show up to her best friends room with a new hairstyle these days without feeling like a cheating wife and— “

“Is that why you keep undoing my braids?”

“Why else?”

I shrug, “I didn’t realize it was bothering you.” 

There’s a loud thud in the doorway, clattering, and then a curse. I look up, more out of shock than anything, in time to see Juno piling polishes back into his kit. Sheepishly, he sweeps them up, not bothering to organize them or close the bag when he stands. I find myself smiling. There’s something familiar about the awkward hustle of his movements that takes me back, way back, to when I caught him halfway out his office window. 

Juno catches me staring, and offers a smile in return. I push down the urge to call him beautiful.

I begin, “I think I saw a hot pink in there, with the style I plan to do, I think that would look good. Especially paired with that cardigan I saw you wear the other day, Rita.” 

“Hmm, no.” Juno says.

I blink. “I’m sorry?” 

“That’s not how we do things. Rita picks the colors, I let her pick mine too. It’s been like this since— since how long, Rita?” 

“Mister Steel…” 

“However long it’s been. What are you thinking this time? I bought some new neons before I left Hyperion.” 

The question is aimed at Rita but Juno keeps his eye fixed on me. 

No, I realize, not on me, but on  _ Rex Glass _ . That version of me that sees this, not reason to sputter and go red — curse my treacherous face— but cause to grin sharply and snap back. This is not a challenge, but an olive branch, a chance to slip into an easier iteration of what we are. If only for Rita's sake.

I try to think of a response that would both bite and avoid insulting Rita's tastes, which, despite how unconventional they are, do work quite well on her. I don't come up with anything, so I offer only a pained smile.

“You should pick. The two of you, I mean. Together.” Rita says.

“I still hold my stance on hot pink.” 

“Hot pink is so last millennia— Yikes, Rita, you don’t gotta look at me like that." Juno huffs a sigh, "Fine. We’ll do hot pink  _ and _ white  _ and _ neon green, with little black dots. Make them look like watermelon slices.” 

I bite back a retort when I hear Rita go “Ooooooh.” I’m looking at the back of her head, but the sparkle in her eye is bright enough to reflect around the room. 

I wait for her to readjust her position, spreading her hands in front of Juno, before I move her neck to where I need it to be. It can't be comfortable for her, but she won't be sitting like this for long. Beauty requires sacrifice, after all.

Rex Glass was always the chaser rather than the chased, so after I finish the first braid, I speak up.

"Juno, dear?"

An expression flicks over Juno's face, too quick to place, before it settles into neutrality. He gives me a bored glance and turns back to Rita's nails. I swear I see a smile on those lips.

"Yeah?"

"Where have you been the past few days? It's as if we've had a ghost on the ship."

"'S hardly my fault."

"I'm sorry, I don't recall my  _ own _ unannounced extended vacation."

His brow knits together, "Hey, that isn't fair."

"That's what I thought when I woke up that morning."

The silence is filled only by Rita's soft snoring.

"Look if you want to talk about it—"

"Rita, darling, wake up. Sorry about this, I've got to get to your other side."

"Are the two of ya' getting along?" She asks sleepily, not so much as cracking an eyelid.

"As well as we always have," I assure her. She turns her head and goes slack again.

The hurt look on Juno's face almost makes me regret the words. 

"Do me a favor, Ransom," Juno says, "Remind me who I'm talking to."

I open my mouth, shut it, and open it again.

"—Cause, I met this great guy on Mars after a run in with an  _ utter _ jackass who  _ robbed _ me and I'm not sure if they're just twins or the same person."

He's right, in a way. I am Rex Glass. I am Peter Ransom  _ as _ Rex Glass. If this were a job that skip in character could have gotten me killed. But—

"This isn't a job, Nureyev. You can be honest."

I snap before my mind can catch up to my tongue, "Call me that  _ name _ again and I'll— I'll—" I don't know how I plan to finish that threat, even if I did, with my flushed face, shaking hands, and furrowed brow, I don't look like I have it in me to follow through. 

Juno stares at me for a long moment before he drops his voice to a near whisper, "Yeah... _ Yeah _ , sorry Ransom. It won't happen again."

I swallow, and want nothing more than to take it back. I have the oddest feeling that I don't want to die. That the name Nureyev only lives as long as there's someone to say it, and I've already gone years without that someone. 

I finish braiding Rita's hair in silence.

~~~

I kick my avoidance into high gear. It isn't difficult— after several decades spent bouncing around space—to become almost entirely nocturnal. For a few days my sleep schedule earns no more protest than the looks Jet and Vespa send my way when I go for dinner at the same time they have their first cups of coffee.

There's something nice about existing in the ship's darkness period. Sure, my circadian rhythm may protest, leaving me groggy, and blurring my thoughts, but the shadows are comforting. They are my element. Several times each 'day' I resist the urge to pick a bedroom door lock just to see if I can, instead busying myself with study, makeup, and spying on Jet as he tweaks the ruby. Around 2 am every morning, I find there's a near-guarantee I'm the only one awake. A convenient time to let the tears fall, on those nights which I need to: Every night thus far. 

By design, I haven't seen Juno since we'd done Rita's hair and nails. I have no plans to amend that fact.

That is, until I get the message through my comms at 4 am ship time, announcing that Buddy has moved crew breakfast back a few hours to accommodate me, and everyone else is waiting at the table.

I consider ignoring it. If not for the wrath I'd incur from everyone for leaving my captain on read and making them wait to eat, I probably would have. 

I know Buddy means well, wants to force me to socialize and whatnot, provide some Ransom-exposure-therapy to the crew with a vain hope I become less unbearable over time, but I've been in space enough to know a sudden shift in meal-time leads only to upset stomachs and a tired crew, which in turn leads to an angry crew. I wonder if Buddy  _ must _ antagonize me, and then I wonder if she does it on purpose. But before my thoughts can spiral towards escape I pull on a shirt I think is the appropriate balance between put-together and well-ruffled, and leave my room.

"Kind of you to join us Pete, I was starting to think you were dead." Buddy's voice is too loud and too cheery.

"Hoped, more like," I joke in response, and watch the words fall flat with a nervous laugh. I clear my throat and sit, piling my plate high in a rush that half of my mind screams is uncharacteristic and the other half screams is the only way to avoid this coming conversation.

Though, silly me, I ought to know there's no way of avoiding Buddy Aurinko's topic of choice. Not with her as captain, not with Juno Steel, career detective, sitting across from me and doing a poor job of trying not to stare. I know that look. He sees something in my expression and is trying to figure out what. I wish I knew myself, so that I could wipe it off my face and file it away for 2 am.

"May we begin eating now, Buddy?" Jet asks. She waves him off, and one by one my colleagues pull their eyes off of me to focus on the matter at hand. All except Buddy and Juno, of course.

"So where have your nightly adventures taken you, Pete?" Buddy says, and fills her face with sausage in a pointed way that means she wants me to do the talking.

"My room, mostly," I say, the tone casual and musing. I mean to leave it at that, to let Buddy simmer in the silence she created in hopes she won't pull the same trick again. It would probably have worked if I myself could stand silence, but I simply  _ can't _ be competent where required.

"I also visit the gym every day so I don't fall behind. Oft-times I style Rita's hair."

"He's real good at it Miss Buddy." Rita says between bites.

"I can see that. Don't think I haven't had my eye on those styles, I'm positively green with envy. What do you think, Vespa? What if I put my hair back how I used to have it?" She eyes Vespa from her peripheral vision, and winks. 

Vespa sputters. I feel rather like a child waiting to be scolded by their parents while the two are preoccupied flirting. I wonder just how accurate the parallel is.

"Wherever did you learn to braid like that, Pete?" Buddy asks.

I shrug, "General interpersonal skills are useful in my—in  _ our _ line of work, whether helping a colleague get ready for a heist or working on my wigs."

"You own wigs?" Juno asks

"Oh, yes. Several." 

I blink. It takes a moment for it to catch up to me. That is, the fact that I am talking to Detective Steel. 

I take a deep breath to slow my heart rate and attempt to suppress a blush I suspect is coming. I glare at my hands and  _ dare _ them to shake. They do not.

Enough conversation. I begin to eat, silence be damned.

Rita fills in most of the chatter, telling us about the series of streams she watched last night before the conversation veers violently in the direction of killer robots. This interests Jet, who interjects with deadpan declarations of astonishment at every broken law of robotics. Despite myself, I feel my shoulders relax as I fall back into rhythm with the people I call—as I fall back into rhythm with my family.

Buddy turns to me again, "Well Pete, when can I get your hands in my hair? Is it by appointment or anytime after the simulated sun goes down?"

But now I've had quite enough. 

I flash a toothy, non-committal smile, standing and picking up Jet & Rita's empty plates along with my own, "I'm afraid I ought to get to the gym before I go to bed tonight."

"I rather hoped you'd fix that retched sleep schedule of yours?" Buddy says.

"Maybe tomorrow."

I dump the plates in the sink.

When the door to the dining room closes behind me, I lean back against it and allow myself a long moment to recollect my thoughts. My skin buzzes with warmth. A pleasant aftermath of an interaction I didn't irredeemably mess up. The familiarity is...refreshing.

In the gym, I change quickly and nearly collapse onto the mat for floor stretches. There's something satisfying about folding myself into smaller and smaller shapes until I can pretend I'm not there at all, totally immersed in the stretch of my lower back, forehead pressed to my knees, paying attention to only my breath. Jet has his meditation, I have this. 

I know who it is when the door opens and shuts, footsteps padding to the locker room. Juno has a distinct weight to his steps, like he's never had to walk quietly a moment in his life. I would know. Those footsteps are what woke me up at the hotel in Hyperion. 

The locker room door opens. Juno approaches me. I keep my breath steady. 

"Hey, sorry to interupt your whole...deal. Mind spotting me?" 

"No."

"Great. I'm right over—"

"I said no, Juno."

"Oh." Juno toes at the floor like a schoolgirl. "Cause I just thought—Well, I do weights, mostly. And those get dangerous so I need a second person."

"I know." I say, moving to child's pose. 

"And no one else is in the gym right now, so I'd appreciate it if—"

"Juno." I say, and look up at him. I watch his Adam's apple Bob when he meets my eyes. He's still just as stunning as the day he left me. "Juno, I wasn't the one who changed my schedule to have us here at the same time. You can ask someone else to spot you in the evening. Your evening, I mean."

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"Clearly."

"So why don't you wanna talk about it? I mean really talk, Nureyev." I shoot him a glare, Juno only glares back. "None of this beating-around-the-bush, rex-glass, dahlia-rose,  _ whatever _ stuff. A real conversation. Like adults."

"Funny hearing that from you."

"Yeah, it is really, huh? Cause I hurt you. And I'm  _ sorry _ . Really  _ goddamned _ sorry. But I can't say any of that if you don't give me the goddamned light of day."

Of all the things I expected from Juno, a forward "sorry" was not one of them. I open my mouth to speak, but I'm speechless. Every ounce of bitter retort and suave deflection is lost to me. 

"Look," Juno continues, "I hate this as much as you do. It's tense and frustrating and I miss—Whatever. It's whatever. But please can we just talk? It doesn't have to be now. Just name a time. Hell, name a time when you can name a time, I'm not in a rush, but we don't have all the time in the world either, and I'm tired Nur—Ransom. I can't keep doing this. I just can't."

My emotions show on my face at times when I'm foolish enough to let them. This is not one of those times. I stare at Juno, expression perfectly blank, as the emotions curl up in my stomach. I examine, identify, and catalogue each one of them individually. Wonder first and foremost, then a raring curiously towards this new man who, initial attraction be damned, I find myself drawn to. There's discomfort there, and hope, two sides of the same coin. There's sadness as well.

Lastly, I recognize a lingering anger.

"You need a second person?" I ask slowly.

Juno furrows his brow, wondering what I'm getting at, and nods.

"A happy coincidence, then. I do too." I stand and move to the rack on the wall, grabbing two objects and tossing one to Juno.

He catches the wooden dagger easily, and weighs it in his hand.

"You want me to fight you?"

"I do."

"And this would make you feel better?"

A piece of me resents this emotional maturity. I don't want to admit it, don't want to confront how Peter Nureyev  _ feels _ .

"Yes." I say.

"You're sure."

I swallow, "No." I say.

Juno considers this. "'S good enough for me," He says, "Though I'm more of a blaster guy. Doesn't feel like an even fight."

I'm glad for the change of subject. "I don't see your point. If anything, you have the strength advantage."

Juno rolls his eyes. I smile despite myself. 

"Here," Juno says, and tosses the mock-dagger away. It slides under a weight bench. He clenches and unclenches his fists, setting his body into a fighting stance. I feel my heart beating hard as I settle myself.

"It's your move." I say.

"Yeah right. Like I'm dumb enough to give you that."

"I have more patience out of the two of us and I think we both know it." I laugh, mostly sincere, and the sound of it makes Juno shift slightly to the side, off balance, as I knew it would.

Juno takes a testing step forward. I mirror him with a step back.

"We are sparring, right? This isn't some game of tag."

"If you think I plan to run, dear detective, you're sorely mista—"

Juno bolts forward, hands reaching for my waist, before I have time to finish. He comes straight for me, not off-balance at all. He must have known, corrected, used my own tricks against me.

It makes my breath catch in my throat that he'd even pay me that much attention. Tools of the trade, I suppose.

I dance to the right, just out of his way, and settle my feet again for movement. Juno doesn't give me time to process before he tries the same charge again. This time I'm ready, holding the dagger In my left hand so he'll think I'll duck to the right, before switching hands and direction at the last second. I arc the blade towards Juno's back. 

I must have forgotten his actual height, because he ducks it easily, hitting the floor to sweep my legs. I once again move away.

We lock eyes for a split second. I take the time to appreciate the devilish grin splitting Juno's face. With the way his eyes flick to my chest and back, I imagine he's doing some of the same.

I bring the knife down towards him. Juno rolls off to the side and into standing, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

He's breathing hard, "That's all you got, Pete? I thought you said you were training."

"Oh hush. I get enough of that talk from Aurinko."

This time I take the initiative, lunging with the dagger pointed at his kidney. Juno hooks the offending arm in the crook of his mirror elbow, forcing the knife down and pulling me close.

I freeze. Feeling his breath against my cheek. Juno pushes my other shoulder until he has me on the ground, one hand on my shoulder, the other on my knife-wielding wrist. The air comes out of me in one sharp exhale.

Juno take the moment to breathe, I take it as an opportunity:

"A rather suggestive position, detective, don't you think?"

"I—" Juno sputters.

With his grip slackened, I bring one knee towards his chest and push, getting the knife arm free. I put the blade to his throat, and cry out in victory.

Juno cocks an eyebrow, and simply stands to get away from it. I feel like a fool. So much so, that when Juno pries the knife from my grip, I let him have it. He tosses the thing, and offers me his hand.

"Round two or are you too tired?" Juno teases.

I take a moment to regard him before I take his hand. (So what if I let him do all the work pulling me up? It's a moment for me to recharge, an excuse to let Juno tire himself out, and, yes, I rather enjoy the knowledge he could carry my weight. We all have our vices.)

When I get to standing, I wrap my arms around his neck, letting Juno revel in that touch while I hook my ankle behind his, and push the knee forward, making it crumple and Juno fold along with it. We end up back on the floor.

"I'm starting to see a pattern in which of my buttons you're pushing, Ransom." Juno chuckles. He looks up and off to the side so our noses aren't quite as close, providing me a view of his long and muscled neck.

I wet my mouth, "You can't say you haven't done the same."

His tone drips with sarcasm when he says, "Me? Really? I'm too good to drop to your level. If you're  _ affected _ by me then that's all on you."

I gasp and swat at Juno's face. He laughs, scrunching up his features. I feel his chest shaking under me. I am keenly aware of my breathing.

When Juno opens his eyes I look away. "Best two out of three?" I ask, "We're both unarmed. Your definition of even, no?"

Juno gives me a look like he means to ask a question, but thinks the better of it. "Sure." He says.

The both of us stand again. I run my hands down his arms with the excuse of dusting him off. Juno still gives me that knowing smile. It's beginning to get under my skin. He always was too smart for his own good.

There are a few things I know about Juno Steel: he is stronger and shorter than me, he is quite easily flustered, he lacks an eye (which I resolve not to take advantage of), and he wants me in a position where I can be studied and comprehended. All in all, this means his goal is to grab me and force me to the floor as quickly as possible, while I must evade him just enough to knock him off balance.

I know he's running these same calculations in his head, and that we come to the same conclusion: our chances of winning this sit strongly in the territory of 'to be determined'. Though this was never about winning, not really, I'm not about to let Juno have this. 

We move at the same time.

Juno goes for my shoulder. I go for his opposite knee, see his move, and abandon the knee to duck to the side. It should be a simple maneuver, to tuck my elbow, pull my foot in and spin, but even from this, Juno, as he always does, gets a small advantage; A grip on my shoulder. The arm that was reaching for my wrist flails uselessly out in front of him, however. A point in my favor. 

We are, once again, perfectly matched.

I continue my spin, flattening my inside foot to the floor before sliding the other between Juno's legs, hooking my heel around his ankle. With one swift press, I should be able to force Juno to his hands and knees and call this round won.

That is not what happens. 

In performing the spin I let my wrist drop, Juno grabs this too. Instead of moving myself to a winning position, I only work to align my body perfectly for Juno to bend at the waist and arc me over his shoulder.

It's as if my brain short-circuits. I don't understand why my feet are suddenly above my head, or why the feeling of dread rises so quickly to my throat. All I see is the room spinning around me and Juno's face hovering above mine. Then the feeling of my side hitting the mat hard.

Juno pins me with a move he must have practiced with the HCPD hundreds of times. I'm helpless.

For a moment neither of us speak.

Then Juno says, "Shit, Ransom, you okay? I didn't mean to throw you that hard." 

I...I just laugh.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I wasn't expecting that, is all. I was so  _ sure _ I had you."

"Yeah, well, it's real easy to fake you out when I know what you're expecting. I know how you...think…" he trails off.

"Thank you for the critique, Detective, I'll keep that in mind."

I give Juno a nervous smile, something to gloss over my wounded pride at breaking the number one rule of thieving. That is, starting a fight I couldn't win. But then I see the look in Juno's eye and the way he searches my face for whatever he did this to find. Noting my features one by one. Lingering on my lips.

I remember where we are: Alone, Juno pinning me to the floor, his face hovering inches above mine.

He squeezes his eyes shut and breaths a quiet, " _ Shit. _ "

That's when I know. For all the traits Juno Steel has gained since I last met him— a sharper eye, a confidence of self, the knowledge of what he wants— an immunity to  _ me _ is not one of them.

"What is it?" I whisper, as if I don't already know. 

"I just—I, uhm." A breath. "I really want to kiss you right now."

I say nothing.

"You're right here, and I  _ miss _ you, but I  _ can't _ . It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

"Dare I say, if this is unfair to both of us doesn't that balance? Make things fair again?"

Juno gives me a glare Rex Glass is all too familiar with, and I laugh.

When I quiet, the tension is still there, strung as tight as a Brahminian guitar. Juno's almost imperceivably closer.

"This isn't going to happen," he tells me, against every ounce of his body language.

I quirk an eyebrow.

"Oh, shut up."

"I didn't say anything, Dear Detective."

"You're looking at me too loud."

A pause. As long as we're here, I figure I might as well enjoy the view. My wandering eyes don't seem to make his decision easier.

"Before any of this can happen, we need to go talk." Juno says.

"I can't move until you do." I tell his exposed collarbone.

Juno makes an unhappy sound, shifting slightly. I feel his breath against my mouth and let my eyes flutter shut.

And then his weight is off me.

"My room or yours?" He asks, and then adds very quickly. "To talk, I mean—shit, just to...chat. Finally."

"I thought you said we have time."

"Sure we do, but a lady gets impatient." He stands with his arms crossed like he did before we headed back to his Hyperion apartment. Nervous and vulnerable, still astoundingly easy to read.

I smirk, "Impatient for what, exactly?"

"My room. Or. Yours."

But this is no laughing matter, no fling between two people who expect to be on opposite sides of the galaxy in two days' time. This is real. This is us. Healing, or at least trying to.

"Yours," I say.

~~~

Juno's room is somehow both exactly what I expected and the opposite of that. It's tight quarters, a long and thin room like we all have. Juno holds my hand as he leads me to his bed like he's scared to lose me again.

We pass his dresser, and then his desk. On its surface only a spiral notebook, a handful of pens, and the lamp lighting up the room. Above the desk is a cork board. I stop walking to stare at it. The decoration is endearingly cheesy, photos of him and Rita, a group of people I don't recognize except for what looks like two Juno's and Agent Wire in their youth, arms thrown around each other. There's a newspaper clipping of the HCPD's new sharp-shooting champion, and the opening of the Andromeda ride on Mars, all connected with push-pins and red string.

Juno chuckles when he sees why I stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can you believe I planned to leave all that on Mars? I was thinking 'New me. A clean cut-off.' But Rita didn't let me. Said I'd miss having souvenirs. She was right."

I squeeze his hand, "It looks good."

"Rita did most of the work setting it up—"

"That's not what I meant. Not exactly." I point to an image of him, a new recruit to the force, wearing his uniform. The person with Juno's face throws an arm of his shoulder and grins at the camera.

"This is your...mother?" I guess.

"I— _ what _ ? No. No, she didn't look anything like us. That's Ben. Benzaiten, I mean. Twin brother. He was…" Juno doesn't finish the sentence.

"Was," I note softly.

Juno nods.

I point to the group of dirty children standing in a ditch, I recognize a building in the background. Old Town.

"I was aware you and Agent Wire went back but this is farther than I imagined."

"Yeah. That one must be really old. The whole gang is there. That isn't Sasha, actually,  _ that's _ Sasha. The one you're pointing at is her sister Ana. Then there's Ben again, and Mick. Mick is back on Mars still. Wonder how that guy's doing."

"Maybe you should call him," I say.

"Maybe...hey, let's go sit down. I can't look at this for too long without getting sappy."

I regard him from the corner of my eye, and fold my idea away for later.

I let Juno lead me to his bed, biting my tongue on an innuendo. I wince when I hit the mattress.

"What's that about? You okay?"

"I'll be fine. A little bruised, is all. You didn't go easy on me." I laugh.

Juno hovers his hands over my skin, "Shit, I didn't mean to. I should've—"

"I would have known if you went easy on me and I would  _ not _ be happy about it. I can handle a few bruises."

"I'm sure you can, but—"

"But nothing, Juno. That's not what we're here for."

"I could get you some ice…"

"Dear," I say, resting my hand on his, "It's fine. Tell me what happened on Mars."

He does. 

I watch Juno as he recounts the tale, traveling from Hyperion to the Cerberus providence and back, into Old Town as it transforms into New Town and out again. Into the past and that horrible, possible future.

I squeeze his hand when his words take me to the Martian desert.

And again, flinching when he realizes who Ramses was to him, when the story of Benzaiten comes to a close, and when he finds Ramses dead. 

I laugh when he gets to the story of the tower, mostly out of shock at how absurd the idea of him and Rita fighting is. Which makes Juno laugh too.

"Yeah, that is pretty silly, now that I think about it."

He shows me the scar from his soul.

Through his story I watch Juno transform from a mystery, into a man, into a hero, and back again. Until he finally whispers, "And that's when I saw you." And settles into just himself. Juno Steel in his most sincere form.

"That's why I… I mean, I felt needed, you know? And there were things, and thoughts, and  _ people _ I'd have left on Mars that I just couldn't have possibly—I mean _ Rita _ ."

I bring my hand to his cheek and he falls silent, "I understand. I can't say I'm particularly glad that happened, but I...I understand. Looks like you've had quite the Brahma."

Juno chuckles, "Yeah I have, haven't I? Funny how that works."

"I thought of you so often in those intermittent months." I say softly.

Juno presses his cheek into my palm, letting one of his hands rest on my waist. He regards me through his eyelashes. 

"I spent this past while just thinking, you know?" He tells me, "Like, would you even care? I went through all of that and it sure as hell isn't your problem, not even a little. Would you like the lady you met at the agency more than the one I am now? Hell, am I allowed to care if you do?"

He blinks rapidly and sniffles. I feel my heart fall.

"I just thought—it kinda sucks, you know? That you can do better for yourself and some people will hate you for it."

"Juno."

"And I was just kinda scared I'd met this great guy,  _ again _ , and I was gonna screw it up. And I did! I did screw it up. But I got a second chance like—like one of those magic time-whatever's from Rita's streams and—"

"Juno."

"Yeah, Nureyev?"

I kiss him. I kiss him like I've been wanting to do all morning, with no hesitation. His grip tightens on my waist, and I feel just as safe with him as I had in that Martian tomb, despite the odds. I slip my arms around his neck and pull him closer.

"This is more fun when you're not pulling my keys out my pocket." Juno breathes.

"Maybe for you. I quite liked the challenge."

Juno huffs a laugh, pressing our foreheads together. "I missed this. You."

"I missed you too, dear."

~~~

Buddy Aurinko has a hair texture quite unlike anything I've ever felt before. The Martian sun hasn't been kind to it. It isn't dry, per se, but I swear the pattern of it's curl changes eight times on each and every long strand. She reveals this to me with a flourish. But her fidgeting hands reveal the insecurity for what it is.

I'm unsure of my own ability to help. But I accept her into my chair nonetheless. The quiet companionship has attracted Jet, who sits across from the both of us flipping through fashion magazines.

"Is  _ this _ the hairstyle you and Vespa discussed?" He asks, holding up a photo of a model.

"It doesn't become less of a surprise the more you guess, Jet," Buddy says.

"That is factually incorrect. I am narrowing down my options."

"Who's to say I'm not lying through my teeth?" 

Jet turns the photo back around and eyes it curiously, "That I had not considered."

I'm still unsure of how to act toward Captain Aurinko, and more so unsure with Jet, so I stay mostly silent and smile in satisfaction at knowing Jet is, in fact, getting colder. 

Then I hear a voice from the hall. "Hey, Ransom! Dear?"

"No no no no no  _ no No! _ Mister Steel! I wasn't supposed to say nothing please don't tell Mr.Ransom.  _ Ohhhhh _ , I'm never gonna watch a stream with you again!"

"We're in here," I call.

The door to my impromptu salon slides open, Juno clings to the door frame, smiling and breathing hard. I see why when he takes another step, crossing the threshold with Rita clinging to his leg.

"Oh hey Buddy, Jet."

"Hiiiii Miss Buddy and Mr. Jet."

"So anyways—"

"—Anywho."

They speak at the same time in a meaningless jumble of words and wide gestures. Juno grinning from ear to ear and Rita looking like she's close to tears before she gasps a huge inhale and starts cackling. My eyes flicker back and forth between them.

"Right, Ransom?" They end in unison.

"I—um," I stutter.

Buddy laughs, "I'm glad I made an appointment. It seems my stylist is quite popular."

"You're planning something," Juno says.

"I swear I didn't tell 'em! Well I told 'em but none of the details, Mr.Ransom, I promise!"

"Is that what this is about?" I ask, "Rather poor timing on your parts." 

I continue on Buddy's hair. I can practically feel her curiosity wafting like heat off the top of her head.

"I fail to see what you're alluding to.' Jet says.

Juno rolls his eyes, "I just found out  _ somebody _ has been planning my birthday gift."

"And the issue here is…" Buddy says.

Juno crosses his arms. "You don't understand, this means  _ war _ ."

"Every single year since I've known him Mister Steel's figured out what I'm getting him for his birthday. Every single year. And I thought, you know, since I had a master thief on my side  _ maybe _ this time I could get away with it."

"But now that I know how much prep you're making I know how deeply I need to dive to figure it out."

"I see. Having a detective for a best friend must be very difficult." Jet notes.

"Tell me about it," Rita and I say.

"Hey, I'm not the bad guy here," Juno argues, "All I'm saying is that you have no chance of hiding it from me, so you might as well give up and just give me whatever it is while it's still a surprise."

"I think you're right," I say.

" _ No  _ you don't— wait, I'm right?"

I hum. "Indeed."

"What are you getting at?"

"Oh, Nothing. Nothing at all."

" _ Ransom _ ."

"It's just, well, Rita told me about your little tradition and I thought, if you're going to be searching anyways, why not make that part of the gift?"

"That's...actually really considerate of you," Juno says.

"So go ahead. It's in my pocket. In the jacket over there."

Juno squints, "What's the catch?"

"Oh, hardly a catch. Just that that was your primary clue and — three more on this side, Captain — now I have more time to refine the game without that clue. To make it harder."

"Hmmmmmn."

"Go ahead, Juno. You will only have lost a lead."

Rita let's him go. Even Jet smirks as Juno scratches his head.

"Yeah, Mr.Steel. I think we can do better."

"Stop, Rita I'm thinking.'

"It's right there Juno. A mystery solved. Just like that." I snap. "Or making another mystery months from now easier. It's your choice."

"Dammit," Juno says. And stomps over to my jacket, thrusting his hand in the pocket. He pulls out a small, rectangular piece of paper.

"Oh!" Buddy says.

"This is...just a cat." Juno says.

"I was doodling, love, check the other side." 

"You doodle a lot of cats, Pete, should I look into—"

" _ Flip it, Juno. _ "

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just messing with you."

I watch Juno's face carefully as he takes a deep breath, and flips the photograph. 

The speed at which he comes to tears is astounding.

"Oh," Juno says, " _ Oh _ ."

"Yes, that's what I thought you'd say."

Juno crosses the room to hit me on the arm, and then presses into my side. I rest my head on his while I keep my eyes on Buddy.

"How the  _ hell? _ " Juno breathes.

"It wasn't all that difficult. I just asked Rita to hack into the Kanagawa's archives and…"

Juno lowers it enough for Buddy to see, "This is day one. Me and  _ Rex Glass _ solving a high-profile murder case."

"How romantic," Buddy muses.

"Don't act like you and Vespa haven't been tied to a torture device together. It's normal."

"Your facts are correct but sincerely disagree with your conclusion." Jet says, "Also, may I see?"

"Yeah, of course. If you look close you can even see where the plasma cutter got me."

"That machinery looks quite old." Jet says.

"We have vintage tastes."

I laugh at the expression of pride on Juno's face. 

"Juno, dear, this isn't a wedding ring,"

"It may as well be, as fast as I'm concerned."

I bite my lip as Juno's eyes go wide. He holds up a finger, "I never said that."

"Said what, love?" I ask.

"So do you like it, Mister Steel?"

"I love it. Come 'ere."

"Oh, you!"

Juno and Rita wrap each other in a hug, Juno pressing his lips to Rita's forehead.

"I'm so happy you're my best friend." Juno says.

"Me too. Even if you ruin all your surprises."

"I like to think it's part of my charm."

I tilt Buddy's head to the other side.

"Ahem," she says, "As sweet as this little reunion has been, I'm afraid it must come to a close, as I'm missing my peace and quiet. Goodbye now."

"What? No! I can be quiet. I can be peaceful." Juno protests.

"Jet, if you would." 

"Call your bouncer off me, Buddy, I didn't do anything. All a lady wants is to spend some time with his boyfriend but—"

"Goodbye, Juno." Jet says.

"Fine, big guy, I'm going, I'm—" The door cuts him off.

"Love you too," I whisper, earning a giggle from Buddy that makes warmth flush in my chest.

Jet turns to Rita, "I'm sorry I have to do this."

"Oh, it's no problem. I understand. I'll walk myself out. Have a good hairstyle Miss Buddy."

"Thank you, I hope I will."

Buddy watches Rita as she leaves, breathing a long exhale when the door shuts.

"Alright, Jet. Bring the mirror."

"Yes, Buddy."

I frown, "I rather thought you'd want to wait until I'm finished to see?"

"I can handle a little scarring, I'm a big girl. Unless you're hiding my look from me cause you've messed up my hair. In which cause I  _ will _ kill you."

"I—"

"A joke, darling. Because I'm stressed."

"Ah."

Jet kneels in front of us, holding a mirror up to Buddy's eye level. I give her a moment to adjust before I sweep the hair away from her scars and softly chittering mechanical eye, looking respectfully away from the mirror so that the captain may regard herself in peace. 

"It isn't terrible." Buddy says after a beat. 

She sounds pleased, though I can't be sure if it's genuine.

~~~

"Do not open your eyes yet." Jet says.

"I didn't plan on it." Vespa spits.

"You were fidgeting."

"So I'm excited to see my partner, sue me."

"Amen," Juno says.

"Shut up, Steel. You're lucky I even let you be here."

Jet let's Vespa to her place at the head of the dining table, and she sinks into her seat with a threatening mutter. 

The rest of the crew, everyone but me, sit around the table. Each of them have seen Buddy, Juno provided the manicure and the three of them, with Rita, acted as the council deciding Buddy's outfit, rather like siblings organizing an anniversary dinner. The spread of food around the table, yet to be uncovered, is courtesy of a Jet. 

I slip into the hall to see the woman of the hour.

"How is Vespa looking? Excited? She'd better be excited." Buddy says.

"Not as striking as you, I admit."

"Talk about Vespa like that again and I'll have to show you the airlock."

"A joke?"

"A joke."

Buddy turns back to the mirror set out here for her, tugging on the fabric of her slacks. I sneak up behind her and adjust her outfit the way I had it before. Buddy huffs and drops her hands.

"It's time, then?" She asks.

"Indeed. If you'll allow me to introduce you?" 

I offer her my hand, and she takes it with a charmed smile.

"If I may have your close-eyed attention." I tell the dining room.

Juno stifles laugh.

Vespa shuffles in her seat, "is it time? Is Bud here?"

"She is," Jet informs her, "Though it seems we are not done with the ceremony."

"Silence!" I call, just for the drama.

Of all the expressions I've expected to see on Jet's face, mildly scolded is not one of them.

I sweep an arm towards Rita, she begins a drum-roll, and Juno joins in. Even Jet stomps his feet until I hold a fist in the lair.

"Introducing the stunning, the stellar, the illusive would-be legend, the surge of solar prisons, the required love of Vespa Ilkay, Captain of the Carte Blanche Crime Family...Buddy Aurinko."

"Can I open my goddamned eyes now?" Vespa barks.

"You may." I step out of Buddy's way with a flourish and a bow.

There's a beat.

"Wow." Vespa breathes, slack jawed. 

The hair-style itself isn't complex. Micro-cornrows running back the sides of her head, loose puffs of sideburns left to fall, the hair on the top piled high and let cascade down in the back. Overall, it takes the same shape as a mullet with none of the cuts.

Complemented with a emerald pantsuit, gold belt, and large, dangling gold earrings, she looks fit to head a phramacorp. The confidence with which she wears her scars only adds to the appeal, and her watermelon-painted fingernails speak to her roots.

"What do you think, Vespa?" Buddy asks, twirling in place, "It's as if the years have melted off of me."

"Gosh, Bud." 

I make my way to my seat as Vespa climbs out of hers, holding Buddy at arm's length, "You look like a million bucks."

"These shoes bring the total to one point five million, I think."

"If we're talking numbers I'm sure the bounty on your head is a hundred times that."

"Wouldn't you know?" Buddy purrs. "Rita, darling, cover your eyes."

"Why?"

The last thing I see before I begin to catalogue the intricacies of the ceiling, is Buddy pulling Vespa close and dipping her.

"Ohhhh,  _ that's _ why."

When their chairs scrape against the floor, I take it as a cue to serve myself. Dinner is still hot, steam curling out of their dishes when they're opened. The air fills with laughter, conversation, and the smells of spice and butter.

"So how'd you pull this off?" Vespa asks, "Your old stylist—"

"Dead in a tragic hair spray accident? A shame, I know. I got help from all of them, but the hair was all Pete."

Vespa squints at me as she chews through the food in her mouth. I can feel myself sweating.

Then she swallows and says, "Maybe the thief  _ does _ have his place."

I don't think she knows just how much those words mean to me, but with the way Juno squeezes my hand under the table, I know  _ someone _ knows.

Long live Peter Nureyev. 

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate titles:  
> -Buddy ain't the therapist this time, bitches  
> -Oh the joys of writing characters who are attracted to eachother  
> -Juno and Rita: sister-rivals from a victorian romance novel  
> -Buddy gets to be insecure (and tall!) as a treat  
> -*bonks you*  
> -I asked myself "How counterproductive can I make peter's coping mechanisms" and the answer was very.  
> -I asked myself "Could I possibly make this gayer?" and the answer was no  
> -I can make sure my children are well fed and happy but i sure can write them in that situation  
> -If I find a typo in this after all the editing passes my ADHD brain somehow pulled off I'll cry
> 
> Tell me how you liked the fight scene! I am open to critique.  
> My tumblr is @drumkonwords if you want to find me occasionally scream about TPP but mostly must scream incoherently.  
> Comments and kudos are always VERY appreciated. Also sending this to frien dwho might like it makes my little size three (child's size) heart just soar.  
> Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day.
> 
> joke of the day:  
> Nothing in my life has made my stomach drop faster than reading Jet say "Yes, Bussy" because of a typo I made.


End file.
